


To Be or Not To Be

by YumYumPM



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Episode: s04e10 The Survival School Affair, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 16:16:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2198460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YumYumPM/pseuds/YumYumPM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Partners and friends on the job and off, is love involved and was it meant to be or not?<br/>Epilogue to The Survival School Affair</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be or Not To Be

Napoleon Solo entered the office of his partner and plopped into a chair next to the desk. “So how was survival school?”

Illya Kuryakin, hard at work on a pile of paperwork, did not even bother to look up. “You were sorely missed. Mr. Cutter would have much preferred to have you there.”

“Ah, the prerogative of being CEA is that I can assign myself other things to do. Why would Cutter prefer me?” Napoleon asked, settling himself more comfortably in the chair.

Glancing up from his paperwork. “Surely you realize that Cutter constantly holds you up to others as a goal to work for…it can be most irritating.”

“Then his memory of my time there must be very different from mine.” Napoleon muttered, remembering back to that time and not fondly. He was good at his job and he had worked very hard to make it look effortless. “Your record is hardly anything to sneeze at. I would have thought he would have been happy to see you.”

Illya shrugged and went back to his paperwork. Cutter and survival school were not his favorite subjects. “I suppose you have a hot date tonight?”

“Yes.” Napoleons face lit up as he thought about his plan. Illya on the other hand smirked. Napoleon could be so predictable. Almost as if reading Illya’s mind Napoleon ventured, “Am I that predictable?”

“Of course, Napoleon.” Illya tried unsuccessfully to look serious.

“So what are your plans for the night? What to double?” 

“I have no plans, and no, I don’t think I want to watch you do your ‘thing’.”

“And just what ‘thing’ might that be?”

“Napoleon, this conversation is getting monotonous and I have lots of paperwork to do, would you mind leaving me to continue?”

Napoleon got up out of the chair, “Okay, partner, how about lunch? You do have to eat.”

“Lunch sounds good, by that time I should have most of our paperwork done,” Illya said starting on another folder.

“That’s the Russian I know and love.” Napoleon threw in as he started out the door.

Sounding casual Illya asked, “Do you?”

Napoleon stopped at the door and turned back, “Do I what?”

Illya not bothering to look up. “Love me.”

Napoleon leaned against the door and thought about it for a while. “Can I get back to you on that?”

“Of course.” Illya smiled a small smile as he watched his partner’s receding back.

They were not able to have lunch that day after all. Waverly had a small assignment for Solo and he was able to finish it and get back in time for his date that night.

She was delectable and willing as all his dates usually were, and while she would normally have his undivided attention tonight was different. Because in the back of his mind he kept going back to the question his friend and partner had asked. Did he love him? It was interfering with his concentration, so he made his excuses and took his date home early.

Later that night, alone in his bed, he put serious thought into the question that was uppermost in his mind. Illya was his partner and his friend, he was frustratingly irritable and Napoleon had come to think of him as the little brother he had never had and sometimes didn’t want. He was also extremely intelligent and there wasn’t anyone he trusted more. So did he love him? Yes, he guessed he did, but not in the way he assumed Illya meant. Or did he? It had been pointed out to him, on several occasions, that Illya was thought to be extremely attractive by the women that he himself had been trying to impress. But could he imagine himself, in a sexual situation with his partner? He thought about that and realized that yes he could. With a great deal of difficulty he finally fell asleep.

The next morning, after he had made a call, he went in search of his Russian partner. He finally cornered him in the lab. He opened the conversation with, “Hi, I have an answer to your question.” 

Concentrating on the microscope, Illya responded absently “What question?”

“Grrrr.” Napoleon was really getting frustrated.

Looking up Illya started. “Oh, that question.” Going back to the microscope. “So what’s the answer?”

Covering his eyes with his hands Napoleon decided not to deck him. “Not here, come to my place tonight around seven, okay?”

“I thought you had another hot date tonight, what happen did she cancel?” Illya inquired.

“No, I did, just be there will ya.”

“Whatever.” Illya was already readjusting his microscope.

 

At seven that night Illya entered Napoleon’s apartment with a slight limp, the first thing he notice was the table that was set in preparation for a candlelit dinner for two. He turned and glared at Napoleon.

“What happened to you leg?” Napoleon wanted to know.

“Nothing, I walked into something,” he said impatiently. “What’s all this?” he waved his hand toward the table.

“What have I told you about watching were your going?” Napoleon started when the doorbell rang. A waiter from one of Napoleon’s favorite restaurants stood there with a couple of bags of prepared food. He came in and went to work arranging the food on the table in silence, evidently having done this many times before. As he left Napoleon gave him a large tip.

“NAPOLEON!” Illya said angrily. “Candles?”

Napoleon looked at the table as if seeing it for the first time. “Oh, well I had arranged for this meal with Janice a week ago and decided it would be a shame to let it go to waste. Sit down we might as well enjoy it.”

Illya sat down and started tackling the food, it was very good. Halfway through the meal, he asked, “Okay, what’s the answer to my question?” 

Napoleon looked pained. “Could we wait till we’ve finished eating?” He knew what he wanted to say, just not how to say it. Maybe if he took the analytical approach.

They ate in silence, the salad was crisp, the steaks cooked to perfection with baked potatoes with everything on them. Illya ate with relish, while Napoleon just played with his food. This made Illya very nervous, what was Napoleon’s answer, would he say yes, but he wanted a new partner or would he say no, but he wanted a new partner. Suddenly he lost his appetite. Putting down his fork and knife he said, “Okay, Napoleon, would you please get to the point?”

Napoleon got up from the table and fixed them each a drink, “Illya, you know there isn’t anyone I’d rather have watching my back.”

Illya took a sip of his drink and wondered where this was leading so he just nodded.

“And I’ve always felt, well not maybe always, but we are friends, right?”

“Yes.”

“Soooo, I love you as a friend.”

Illya nodded he could live with that.

“And I think I love you as more than a friend.”

“You think?”

Sigh. “No, I’m pretty sure I love you.”

Illya thought about that. “You mean you want to have sex with me?” he said slowly.

“Yes…no…maybe.”

“Which is it, Napoleon?”

Napoleon was feeling very frustrated. “I don’t know, I care about you very much and I would like a more physical relationship with you, at least I think I do. What do you want?”

That was clear, clear as mud. “Can I get back to you on that?” Illya asked as he wondered what on earth had possessed him to ask that question in the first place.

That night Illya had trouble sleeping, he supposed he cared about Napoleon a great deal and it was quite possible he did love him. But did he want him in that way? Yes.

The next few days, both Illya and Napoleon were very busy and did not have any time to get together. When they finally got a mission together, nothing was said. Nothing was said on the next two missions either. But on the fourth the shoe finally fell.

The mission had not been taxing physically; it was just that they had been without sleep for thirty-six hours. They were so tired that they were past tired. Upon entering their hotel room, Napoleon flopped on the first bed he came to, while Illya started removing the dirty, dusty clothes he was wearing. Napoleon turned over with his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. “Do you know how long it’s been since I had a date?”

Illya knew but was not about to admit it. “What am I, your social secretary?”

“Two months, two solid frigin months.” Frustrated he lay there still staring at the ceiling.

“And that is my fault?” Illya stopped unbuttoning his shirt long enough to stare at him. 

“Of course it’s your fault.” Napoleon knew he wasn’t making any sense, but he had to say it anyway.

With his hands on his hips Illya asked indignantly, “How?” 

“Do you know how hard it is to work this close to you and not be able to touch you?” Napoleon turned on his side to look at his partner.

“You’ve touched me,” Illya responded gruffly.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” Napoleon fell back again staring at the ceiling.

“I never said you couldn’t touch me,” Illya said quietly not looking at Napoleon.

“You never said I could.” There was anguish in Napoleon’s voice.

Illya closed his eyes; he knew this was bound to happen sooner or later. “Napoleon, the repercussions?”

“Damn the repercussions.” Napoleon said angrily as he moved to sit at the edge of the bed.

So Illya did the only thing he could, he walked over to his partner and pushed him back down, took his mouth in a kiss that was full of the passion he had kept in reign all this time. It wasn’t long before they were both without clothing and withering with the fervor they had each tried to keep in check. 

When they finally pulled themselves apart, Napoleon said dryly, “Well…that was interesting.”

Illya got up off the bed and went to the bathroom for a couple of wash clothes. “Meaning?”

“I guess I just didn’t expect it to be so….messy,” Napoleon said as he looked down at his stomach.

Throwing a washcloth at Napoleon and sitting on the edge of the bed to wipe himself off, Illya pondered that statement. Then he went to their suitcases and getting clean underwear and pajama’s threw Napoleon his before responding. “I hear there are ways that aren’t.” To which Napoleon just twitched his nose in distaste. 

“I suppose if you got the urge I could…” Napoleon responded tentively as he pulled the bedding off the bed after he had finished changing.

Illya just shook his head as he removed a deck of card from his suitcase and went to sit on the other bed next to where Napoleon was now reclining. Opening the deck and expertly shuffling them he dealt the cards.

“The kissing wasn’t bad,” Illya ventured.

Napoleon nodded, after all kissing was something he excelled in. “Holding was pretty nice too.”

“We’ve held each other before.” Illya looked up surprised.

“Yes, but usually one of us is in pain. It’s nice to hold you without one of us being in pain.” Napoleon sorted his cards.

Illya couldn’t argue with that.

“What’s the stakes?” Napoleon asked as he looked at his cards.

“Loser has to suck off the winner,” Illya smirked, just before Napoleon reached behind and grabbed a pillow knocking him to the floor. Illya started laughing and it was fifteen minutes before he could get his laughter under control.

“Grrr, I’ll take three,” Napoleon said as he threw three cards down. “To be or not to be. Does this mean I’m not gay?”

Illya passed him his three cards. “I don’t know, do you want to have sex with other men? “

“No, I’m not even sure I want to have sex with you. No offense.” Napoleon looked at his new cards.

“Then I would say you aren’t gay.” Illya glanced at his cards. “Dealer takes two.”

“What about you? Do you want to have sex with other men?” Napoleon had to ask.

Folding his cards and thinking Illya decided. “No, I think I can control myself.”

“ILLYA!” growled Napoleon.

“No, Napoleon I do not have any urges for other men.”

“That’s better.” Napoleon sighed with relief.

“I suppose you’ll go back to your women now?”

“I suppose, though it wouldn’t mean anything, it never did. I call”

Illya laid down his cards. “Three sevens king high.”

“Hah, full house,” Napoleon gloated as he laid his cards down.

Illya threw down his cards in disgust. “I’m tired.”

Napoleon moved over to make room. “Okay, come here, I promise to behave.”

Crawling into the bed Illya quipped, “I think you’re too tired to do anything else.”

Napoleon pulled the covers up over both of them and wrapped his arms around his partner. “I still love you, you know.” He felt Illya nod as they both closed their eyes and went to sleep.

 

The End


End file.
